


Convalescence with Elves

by NoelBlue



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 17:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelBlue/pseuds/NoelBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke is bored and restless after breaking his leg on a badly aimed Cone of Cold spell; thank the Maker Fenris shows up to make him feel better, if in a typically grumpy, Fenris-y way.</p><p>Takes place a couple of weeks after the DA2 Quest "Alone".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Convalescence with Elves

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a Kink!Meme asking for M!Hawke breaking his leg on ice and a Male LI.
> 
> Can be read as a sequel to "Social Maneuvers".

The sound of bones breaking echoed down the alley.

His companions and the half-dozen remaining bandits had stopped their fighting to watch, transfixed, as the Champion of Kirkwall's feet went flying out from under him in a way that was briefly comical until he landed, with that most disturbing of sounds, directly on top of his right leg.

"Maker fuck me!" Hawke swore, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Dog whined in empathy before springing forward to rip out the hamstring of the closest enemy.

"Hawke!" Aveline said, swinging her shield.

Varric lifted Bianca and buried a bolt in the forehead of the pesky assassin who came sprinting out of the shadows. "You okay there?" He said over his shoulder.

"No! Bloody fucking - Merrill!" Hawke yelled, angrily slicing the back of the knees of a bandit who was stupid enough to think a broken leg made him vulnerable. "What did I tell you about casting cone of cold in my damn direction?"

"Not to do it?" She said meekly, and with an apologetic smile fireballed the last two standing archers; she rushed over to Hawke as the burned men screamed.

"Not. To. Fucking do it. Ever. Balls that hurts." He grimaced as Varric helped Aveline lift him so he could throw his arm over her shoulders. "Take me to Anders."

"Maybe we should bring him to you, Hawke," Aveline said.

"No, I don't think so, not with the many Coterie assassins on my ass at the moment - they're probably already on their way to make the most of this. We should get out of here."

They agreed, and the group began the slow trek to Darktown. The uneven nature of his living crutches made the whole affair very painful, and Hawke started to invent a whole litany of colorful curses. At one point they had to stop to cut away his pants leg, as the fabric was not making nice with the swelling and the aching. Hawke, in an attempt to distract himself, thought of Fenris and wondered what he was doing at that very moment. He was briefly pleased that the elf was not there to witness his humiliation, an emotion that morphed into an embarrassing and burning desire to see his absent lover.

Not far from Darktown Varric looked down at the damage and whistled. "I think you might be out of commission for a while with this one, boss. That's a mighty fine mess you have down there."

"Just wonderful," Hawke said dryly. "You know how much I love to sit around and do nothing."

******************

"Maker, I hate sitting around doing nothing!" Hawke slammed his goblet on the floor and made a face as the injury potion slimed its way down his tongue and throat. "That shit is so disgusting it's unholy."

Orana looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sereh. Anders told me to make it that way, but I can add something tastier. Do you need a fruit drink? Would that help?"

"No no, Orana, I'm sorry." He shook his head. "Leave me, I'm in a foul mood. You've been quite patient. I'm well situated, and I have the crutches if I need anything. I'll call you if necessary."

She nodded, took his cup and gently pulled the door so it sat open, as if a too-loud noise might set him off.

Hawke sighed and picked up the book next to the cushy divan he'd decided to make his temporary sickbed. He was in his sitting room, with a cozy fire roaring and the Mabari snoring lustily before it. He started to read where he had left off.

He didn't get far.

"Blasted rubbish!" He flung the book across the room, where it hit the wall and split at the binding. Dog mumbled, gave his master a dirty look and re-settled his head on his paws.

His eyes bore holes into the ceiling. He was a bit disgusted with himself. Here he was, wounded less than a day, and he was already bloody restless. The last 7 years of his life had been so ceaselessly busy that he'd barely had time to sleep, and an enforced period of convalescence was alien and unappealing.

Despite not being tired he closed his eyes, hoping a nap would help. Instead of the welcoming arms of sleep, however, he found himself remembering the last time he was unable to move, several years before. He had wounded himself on one of his first jobs for the red irons; in typical fashion he'd thrown himself at a group of private guardsman that had one member too many. Leandra had taken care of him, read to him and fussed in a way that had him constantly complaining and filled with a cozy sense he was loved. Maker, he missed her.

"Not only restless but maudlin, it seems," he said to himself. Pitiful.

"Hawke."

He looked up. With effort he kept his smile under control.

Fenris stood in the doorway, his body language uncertain.

"Been a few days," Hawke said conversationally. "How was the Sundermont?" He was proud of how steady his voice was.

"Dirty, repetitive, full of scenic vistas and hidden revenants. As it always is," Fenris said. "I am not here for long, just so you are aware - I must meet the Earl and report on our findings."

"Ah," Hawke said as the elf closed the door. He was unsure what to say, as his mind was full of possible conversations that he didn't know how to start. The whole thing was far too new.

A fortnight ago Fenris had apologized for fleeing many years before, and they had spent one wonderful, sleepless, sometimes hilarious night together; there had been something about other creative uses for Hawke's favor that had ended up with Hawke biting Fenris' toes while the elf threatened to kick him as soon as his feet were unbound. Then Fenris, with typical and endearing gracelessness, had said a gruff goodbye and slipped off on a mercenary mission.

And now Fenris was back and standing in his sitting room. He appeared freshly bathed, without his armor and with an expression that hovered somewhere between vexed and nervous. Hawke himself was filled with a mix of desire and paranoia - had Fenris changed his mind again?

Dark brows furrowed as his gaze fell on the unwieldy splint on Hawke's leg. He waved a hand in its general direction, as if viewing something particularly offensive in the Darktown dirt. "I saw Donnic on patrol as I left my house, and he mentioned you were wounded. What happened?"

"I fell while fighting in Lowtown. On a patch of ice."

"A patch of ice? In the middle of Spring?" Comprehension dawned on Fenris' face. "Ah. Mages."

" Mages. And now I'm stuck like this for at least a week or two, according to Anders - I broke it in several places, so it's a multi-step process. First he cast a spell to help it set faster, and I take an injury potion a day. Then he'll be back to check on me to see how it's doing. When he feels it's ready he'll do a final healing spell, and I should be good to go." Hawke flopped dramatically on his back, flung an arm over the head of the divan and sighed heavily. "If I don't die of boredom before then, of course, which is perfectly likely. But it's much funnier now than when it happened." He was trying to be melodramatic and entertaining, but must have failed; Fenris did not look amused.

"It's not funny at all," Fenris said in too-serious tones. "This is what you do to yourself when I'm not around?"

"I can't tell you how glad I was you weren't there, actually. You would have been disgusted with the lot of us."

Fenris began to pace, causing Dog to look up in askance. "Then yes, it's good that I wasn't there." Hawke blinked at that dissatisfied growl. It was sexy, of course, but nerve-wracking.

Fenris then bent down to pick up the book Hawke had thrown. He looked at the title, and turned to Hawke with a raised eyebrow.

Hawke grimaced. "Don't look at me like that - it's Isabela's. I have five of them, actually. That's my third in a day, and I'm done. There are only so many 'turgid members' and penetrated virgins one broken man can stand, you know. Just awful."

"It isn't as bad as all that. The ending is well written, if rather melodramatic."

"You've read it?" Hawke said, surprised.

Fenris placed the book on an end table behind Hawke's head, closing it carefully. "I've read all of Isabela's books." His eyes were still on the cover, and he smiled a private smile."What else did I have to do for three years but improve my reading skills?"

Hawke's hand shot out and wrapped itself around Fenris' wrist, and Fenris looked down in consternation. "Why are you angry?" Hawke said, pushing himself up to a sitting position.

"I am not angry," Fenris said, angrily.

"Right. Nor do you brood." Hawke yanked and Fenris grunted as he fell forward and almost landed on top of the splint. He arms shot out and he braced himself, his left leg touching the ground and his torso suspended above Hawke's body. Their faces were inches apart, and Fenris' eyes glinted in the firelight.   
"You're a truly horrible liar, you know that, Leto?" Hawke said. He reached up and brushed the white strands aside, then traced the edge of one long ear before he pulled his hand back with a deep breath. That didn't help, since it gave him a noseful of sexy elf scent, a personal addiction. He kept his tone light. "Have you come here to leave me again, hmmm? Too much time to think up there on Sundermont about us?"

Fenris' expression shifted from anger to rage, and Hawke swore he saw the faintest flicker of blue along those deadly lines of lyrium. "You are a stupid, arrogant, clumsy, reckless and bloody thoughtless dog of a human bastard, are you aware of that?"

Hawke was about to defend himself - his parents had been quite firmly married, thank you very much - when Fenris dropped his mouth upon his in a provocatively violent manner. "Mmmrggh?" was all he managed before he buried his hands in that soft, too long hair and pushed back, snarling and smiling as his lips were bit and his tongue was met with an answering parry. Hawke heard noises that sounded like Dog was savaging something, hungry and animalistic, and then it dawned on him that it was coming from them. He laughed into their kiss.

"Do you not take anything seriously?" Fenris pulled back and snarled, but Hawke could have sworn a smile was pulling at the edge of that upturned lip. "I did not come here to leave you again, no - I do not tell someone I can't stand to be without them in jest. And I never gave you permission to call me Leto, Garrett." He made the name a husky leer.

"Nor did I say you could call me a dog of a human bastard; it certainly didn't stop you." He shifted, giving Fenris room to settle his body on his left, away from his worthless leg. He wrapped his arm around Fenris' shoulders and felt the body tense and then relax. His head fell on Hawke's chest, and there was the brush of an ear underneath Hawke's chin. He seriously considered indulging in a touch of light nibbling. "If you are not here to break my heart, do pray tell why I am so many nasty things?"

"Because," came the muffled reply, "If you were not such a clumsy, reckless, arrogant fool you would not have hurt yourself. And if I had been there, perhaps I would have been able to stop you from falling, or getting in the way of some damned mage's spell."

Hawke paused, then started laughing. "Are you trying to tell me that you are mad at me because I broke my leg? Accidentally, by the by?"

"And you were pleased I was not there."

Hawke bit down on the comment that Fenris was bloody adorable when he was petulant; that would not go over well, although he was beginning to suspect his lover enjoyed being irked.

"Only in the sense that I make a fool of myself around you regularly. I would like to keep some shred of dignity intact in your presence. But," he gave into his impish instinct and nuzzled one of those soft points, the muffled sound of indignation as he ran his lips along its length sounding suspiciously like pleasure. "I think I must admit you rob me of grace, my knife-eared love."

"You are an embarrassment, Hawke." Fenris lifted his head, and smiled. "Also a sentimental fool."

"And a sorry, alone, broken man." He blinked, and attempted to look innocent. Fenris simply looked bemused, although the slight flush on those olive cheeks bade well. "Won't you make me feel better?"

Fenris laughed. "Only because you asked," he said, and kissed Hawke again.

This time he was gentle; Hawke responded in kind. He licked at Fenris' bottom lip as he let his hands settle somewhere beneath his back. He adored the feel of those firm, rounded muscles.

Fenris' hands started to roam as well yet slowly, playfully; at moments his touch was almost tentative. They had never done anything like this before, and Hawke recognized that Fenris had no experience with intimacy - it seemed, somehow, to startle him more than the raw sex they had engaged in thus far.

How long they stayed like that was unknown, kissing, exploring, laughing and teasing. Hawke did several small things he had wanted to for a while, such as lick the straight edge of that fine elven nose, and he reveled at the pressure of Fenris' legs and chest above his. He loved how careful Fenris was to shift himself always to the left, as if worried he would cause further harm to Hawke's leg. There was a faint lingering pain, but Hawke was far beyond caring.

His lips were marking a feathery path down his partner's neck when he felt rather than heard Fenris sigh, and stopped when the skin pulled away.

Those green eyes had that particular look that Merrill was so fond of; Hawke hoped that Fenris never figured out how much that disarmed him. "I must go - the earl is not a patient man. When shall I return?"

Hawke wrinkled his nose in consternation, and ignored the question. He picked up a hand that had curled in his chest hair and ran his fingers down the lines of the shimmering tattoo.

"You have beautiful hands, you know that?" He pressed their palms together. "Your skin is rough and the nails need cleaning, but they are very fine, long and lanky like you. I like them."

Fenris started to smile but settled on a severe expression. "Yes yes, you like my hands. Answer the question, Hawke. I'm already late."

"Let's see." Hawke twined their fingers and placed them on his abdomen as he thought. "Aveline and Donnic are coming over for dinner tonight, and might stay for some drinks. Varric promised he'll be over daily after lunch for some Wicked Grace and Diamondback; Donnic, Anders, and Isabela might join us, their schedules depending. Isabela is supposed to come over regularly to tell dirty stories and catch me up on the gossip, but you know her schedule - that'll be late. Merrill said she'd stop by to tell me her favorite elven tales and bring some strange tree liqueur Isabela got her, probably in the morning. Serendipity sent a note promising a massage, but I haven't written back. And the Seneschal, demanding bitch that he is, has -"

"If I understand you correctly," Fenris' interrupted, his eyes narrowed to little green slits. "you will always have people by you for the foreseeable future? You will not, as you so dramatically stated, 'be an alone, broken man' and at serious risk of 'dying of boredom'?"

"Did I say all that?" Hawke said with casual surprise, and moved his hand upwards to start a tripping gait on Fenris' forearm. "That might be not quite true, now that you mention it. I suppose I do have a few people who care about me."

"And what," Fenris' voice dropped to a low, angry growl, "is this about a 'massage'?"

Hawke held up his free hand. "It was only an offer! And I would never have considered more than a massage, truly. But I will politely decline."

"Yes, yes you will. But as it doesn't sound like you have time for-" Fenris started to stand, and Hawke clamped down on his fingers and pulled him back with a little jerk.

"I will send all of them away if you come visit me, even if all you do is sit in a corner and read, or clean your sword and glower." He lifted the tattooed digits to his lips and kissed them gently, and leaned his cheek on the knuckles. "my time is yours."

Fenris opened his fingers to tap Hawke's skin. "Then I shall take it." Those fingers ran down the edge of his lover's jaw before he pulled away, stood, and strode towards the door.

"See you tonight, then," Hawke said after him.

Fenris shook his head, but quirked up the corner of his mouth. "See you tonight." he closed the door firmly.

Hawke shifted his torso and stretched out his body with a wide smile. "This," he said to the Marbari, who turned one lazy eye to look at him. "might be far more bearable than I thought."

Dog barked in happy agreement, and Hawke closed his eyes to think fondly of broody elves and delightful distractions.

Fini.


End file.
